Those fall down, must get up
Her throat is itchy. That is all that she remembers as she stares at the gathering of people screaming and crying out her name, her title.
She wasn’t scared, not even nervous. She was confused about this concoction of voices swirling around her head, her ears, her eyes. All of her senses are focusing on the inky, black wisps attacking her body with a hug.
It was never this strong before only a kiss on the cheek, or a hand hold anytime she felt lonely.
Her throat still itches as the whispers tell her to scratch. To scratch until they are all bloody and raw, to bite and chew at their necks.
A gasp leaves without permission, echoing out in the wind travelling across the cobblestone paths. Her throat hurts now but she is still not scared, she is not lonely, not anymore.
____________________________
Being dead isn’t as bad as people say. It’s not painful or bright instead she is surrounded by void, the same voices whispering loving affection in her ears. She does not know how long she’s been here, been like this. It feels short but the whispers say otherwise they say it’s time to wake up but she is so tired.
Her throat doesn’t itch anymore. Nothing hurts anymore. She is at peace finally after years of being shouted at and choked, either by a hand or rope.
The universe, however, has other plans.
____________________________
‘Get up. It’s time to arise once again, to walk among those who betrayed you.’
No. No I don’t think so, darling.
‘You don’t have a choice, you never had a choice. It is time to change that, now. Get up.’
I’m tired. I’m dead.
‘Yes you are. We however, aren’t finished yet. Now get up.’
By some unseen force an arm sticks up, breaking through the rotten wood of her cage with ease. Bones cracking into place as skin forms once again on her arm, paler than last time. Her skull bashes against the wood, her entire body trashing, clawing to get out.
Dirt falls on her new face, some in her mouth. She savours the taste of life once more.
The moon shines through the small opening she managed to make, stopping to gaze at it with wet eyes. With one final swipe at the dirt above she can see. She heaves herself up with every bit of strength she can force out of her body. Bones snapping under the pressure but she doesn’t care. She’s free.
Glancing around and standing up on two shaky legs she notices she’s in a graveyard, an old, decrepit graveyard. How perfect. She looks behind her out of sick curiosity. An unmarked grave. After four hundred years of waiting, tears finally fall.
>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<
The alarm rings out through as well as a groan to accompany it. Red hair displayed on a pillow like some fine art in one of those pretentious museums.
Wanda groans again and raises a twitching hand engulfed with red. Her alarm clock flies across the room, bashing against the wall.
She sighs contentedly before a loud banging on her door interrupts her once more.
“Wanda! Get up you have training which means an early breakfast for you.”
Natasha’s voice rings out in a teasing tone like a mother waking their child up for school.
Ever since Ultron and everything that came with him, Wanda has been under the strict surveillance of the Avengers. Specifically the one and only, Black Widow.
Wanda feels a weird attachment to the woman. She doesn’t know if she’s terrified or curious of the woman, perhaps a bit of both but she does know that she feels safe with Natasha. For her entire life she has only had felt safe with Pietro and now her safe place is gone. Taken away from her in a blink of an eye.
“Wanda! Come on, get up and brush your teeth.”
Well, enough of her depressive state. Wanda sits up and rubs the sleep out of her eyes with the heels of her hands. Her bones crack a bit, still not used to the soft, velvety mattress that was given to her.
She sighs again, not ready to face the world without the other part of her soul by her side.
She walks to the bathroom the brush her teeth.
________________________________
Getting knocked on the floor by the world’s greatest assassin was getting old fast. While Wanda was talented in her mind and telekinesis powers her hand to hand combat could do with some work. A lot of work.
Natasha holds out a hand to the girl to take but Wanda knows better than to take it, after the first few times where she had gotten thrown over the Avenger’s shoulder.
On shaky legs pumped up from adrenaline she stands up with her eyes glued onto the ground avoiding Natasha’s stare.
“That was bad, really bad.” Natasha says in a disappointed tone, looking Wanda up and down trying to see any injury that could’ve happened during their training session. When satisfied she lays a hand on Wanda’s shoulder.
“Take five, get a drink and we get right back to it, okay?” Natasha says with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk plastered on her face.
Wanda nods and walks to one of the benches in the gym which are pushed up against the walls. She sits down and rummages in the small backpack she bought with her. Seizing a plastic water bottle and quickly taking off the cap, guzzling the water down like she ran a marathon in a desert.
While she normally enjoyed spending time with Natasha, training was probably her least favourite activity on earth. Wanda liked doing things slowly, calmly. Her powers let her do exactly that. Making the TV remote leisurely levitate its way over to her. Flicking the pages of her books without moving a finger, it was nice. Dodging punches and kicks by a trained assassin, the Black Widow no less, was not nice.
“You ready?” Said assassin says, wrapping her knuckles in protective bandages.
Wanda sighs and goes to stand up before a familiar voice interrupts the duo.
“Agent Romanov, agent Maximoff. Mr. Rodgers requests your presence. It appears to be urgent.” The voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y echos throughout the room. Natasha makes eye contact with the young girl and gives her a nod before making her way out the door.
Taking in a breath followed by a shaky exhale, Wanda follows in pursuit.
>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<
Being alive again was disorienting to say the least. She doesn’t breathe as much and her heart barely beats. From the looks of it she doesn’t need to eat or drink either.
Wandering around this new world was absolutely terrifying but extremely enjoyable. It was so bright. The buildings tall, some reaching the clouds and the clothes.
The. Clothes.
Women walking around in barely a stitch. Having what seemed to be demonic symbols on their arms and legs, sometimes even their face. What was really odd to her though was the men, they didn’t seem to care about what those women were wearing. Most seem to enjoy it from the sounds of their whistles.
Walking around for months taught the girl what to expect from this new world. It was loud, that was the main point she gotten from her travels.
The whispers seemed to enjoy it as well, slithering between alleyways as they watch over the people below them. Giggling anytime she accidentally frightened someone.
That was her main problem. When she woke up she did not know what her body looked like. She knew what to expect, honey coloured hair with dark eyes that looked like marbles. A fairly small frame but good child-bearing hips, that’s what her mother told her when she was young.
When she caught eye of her appearance in a murky puddle on the side of the road. Her cheeks were sunken in, her eyes wide as her eyelids were as thin as paper. The skin on her lips flaking off and her hair was cut short from the dagger they put to her.
People screamed when they laid their eyes on her, some gave her compliments on her costume. Others handed her coins while others spat at her feet.
One time a man in a blue uniform requested to bring her to get help. She declined.
Why would she need help? She was finally what she wanted to be, what she needed to be.
She is beautiful.